


Palynology

by waketosleep



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Community: cliche_bingo, Gen, fun with pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-03
Updated: 2009-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock accidentally experiences 'social lubrication'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palynology

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to my journal as a Cliche Bingo fill for 'drugs' in 2009.

It was as tall as a man, with broad, flat, purple leaves, as big as dinner plates. Botany had had a grand time poking and scanning it, and finally they cleared it as non-toxic, non-radioactive, non-sentient, and non-anything-else-that-might-typically-be-a-bad-idea.

“All right, Lt. Sulu,” Kirk said, crossing his arms. “We can keep it.” He gestured at two ops personnel standing by. “Let's put it in the rec room on Deck 5,” he said thoughtfully. “The whole crew could use more flora in their lives, especially the non-dangerous kind.”

Sulu practically danced along behind the groaning ops guys carrying the pot, helping it through the door of the turbolift and ready to babysit it all the way to its new home. Kirk sighed as the lift closed behind them and turned back to face his bridge.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “This gift was very generous of the Bajorans, Captain.”

“Next time, a fruit basket might be a better idea,” Kirk said. “At least we thought to check it.”

*** 

The plant began to flower about a week later, large, white, waxy blossoms that drew crewmembers from all over the ship to ogle it. It was impressive-looking, Spock had to admit, but he only saw it in passing, as he rarely had cause to be in the rec rooms and wasn't given to needless lingering to stare at plants.

He did find himself in there one night, however, as he conversed with Uhura about the music group she was organizing. As he sat in a plush chair, looking inattentively at the plant while talking, he began to feel inexplicably lightheaded. He must have stopped speaking, because he realized that Uhura was looking at him carefully.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked, chasing the feeling away. “Yes. I believe I am merely tired. An early bedtime might be prudent.” He got to his feet slowly, watching the room shift a bit—vertigo, how odd—and made his way carefully to the door and from there to his cabin. His head started to clear even as he meditated before sleep, and by morning he was once again as lucid as ever.

*** 

When the feeling came over him again in the science labs two days later, he was caught so off-guard that he merely stood quietly for a moment, staring at his microscope as everything began to feel vague and distant. It took a great mental effort to focus on the room again, at which point he turned to Dr. Stevens, said, “I have just remembered an appointment in Sickbay,” and promptly left.

Dr. McCoy shone a light in his eyes rather cruelly.

“Your pupils are dilated,” he said. “Have you been into the sauce, Mr. Spock?”

Spock gave him an affronted look, but since he understood most of his expressions to show only through his eyes, it was probably missed. “Even if alcohol had the same effects on my system as on a human's, Doctor, I do not imbibe it and certainly would not do so while working.” Unlike some.

McCoy backed away with his hands up. “No need to hiss at me,” he said. “I was only kidding.” He put on a more serious expression. “Any idea what may be causing this?”

Spock had none, and said so.

“Well, let me know if the symptoms persist or get worse. Not much else I can do.”

Spock shifted off of the bed, already feeling better. “Thank you, Doctor. I will return to my station.”

And he vowed that he would report to Sickbay if he felt that strange vertigo again, but it came on so subtly—in his quarters, in the mess, at his station on the bridge—that he was lucky to even notice it. By the time it was a constant, low-level buzz, he had acclimatized and compensated to the point that it began to feel normal. He was certain McCoy wouldn't be able to figure out what was going on, and it would be best to find the cause on his own first, if he could.

It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling, anyway.

*** 

“Mr. Spock, where are we at on the deep scans of this sector?”

“Nearly complete, Captain.”

“Excellent. Pass the results this way when you're done, please.”

Kirk settled back into his chair as the bridge bustled calmly around him.

“Captain,” Uhura said, “Mr. Scott has an update on the left warp nacelle. I've patched him through to your chair.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” he said, flipping the appropriate switch. “Scotty!”

“Captain, it's completely fucked.”

Kirk paused, staring down at the speaker. “Well, don't sugarcoat it, Mr. Scott.”

Spock snorted.

Slowly, Kirk turned in his chair to look at him, oblivious to Scotty's ranting about the probably-not- _completely_ -fucked nacelle. The rest of the bridge was staring just as silently as he was.

“I'll call you back, Scotty,” he said quickly, closing the connection mid-rant. “Mr. Spock? Are you alright?”

“I am fine, Captain. Why do you ask?”

Kirk squinted. “No reason?” He studied his first officer some more. “Spock, you look awfully green today. I'd ask if it was warm in here, but, well.”

Spock unhooked a PADD from his station and rose gracefully to his feet to bring it to Kirk. “The scan results, Captain.” He made no acknowledgement of Kirk's half-question.

Kirk took the PADD. “You sure you haven't got a fever or something? Go see McCoy.”

Spock smiled, just a little, enough for it to reach his eyes. “There is nothing amiss.” His eyes were slightly unfocused, from this distance.

“Keptin, ze Commander looks drunk.”

Kirk turned to give him an incredulous look just as Sulu smacked Chekov in the arm. Spock just raised an eyebrow.

“It has always escaped my comprehension,” he said, “why the person in charge of shipwide announcements has a completely impenetrable accent which is unfamiliar to the majority of the crew. In fact, it is not even a standard Russian accent. Ensign, may I enquire as to how your speech patterns and vocalization have developed in such a strange fashion?”

Chekov gaped at him, and the rest of the bridge seemed torn between doing the same or giggling behind their hands.

Kirk jumped out of his chair and put a hand on Spock's shoulder with intent to guide him to the turbolift. Spock turned his attention back to him.

“Perhaps you can explain this to my satisfaction, Captain. And while we are speaking of matters which puzzle me, perhaps we can also explore the reasons you persist in touching me or invading my personal space for no apparent reason. You are aware that Vulcans are generally rets—reticent about close contact, are you not?”

“Sulu, you have the conn,” Kirk said over his shoulder as he walked Spock ahead of him into the turbolift. “As you were!” he snapped at the dumbfounded bridge.

The very tiny sensation of movement as the lift started toward Sickbay made Spock stumble, kept upright only by a supporting hand around his shoulders.

“Perhaps Sickbay is a good idea,” Spock said faintly.

“Oh my God, you _are_ drunk!” Kirk said, peering at his face. “How did this even happen?”

“I do not know. The turbolift is moving steadily clockwise; that is not part of its building specifications.”

“The spins, huh? That's rough, buddy. We're almost there; Bones'll fix you.” He tucked Spock against his side for more support and felt the Vulcan sag into him. It might feel kind of nice if he wasn't busy freaking out.

Then Spock nuzzled into his neck with a little hum, and his knees nearly gave out just as the lift doors finally opened.

*** 

When they figured it out, the still-flowering plant was unceremoniously beamed into space, right before they went to warp 2 on the newly-mended nacelle. Sulu kept alternating between being apologetic and heartbroken and Kirk was developing a serious dislike of plants in general. Fruit baskets were definitely where it was at.

“We've flushed the ventilation system, Captain,” Lt. Keenser said. “There might be slight traces of the pollen for a little while yet, but Dr. McCoy and the botany team all insist that it won't be enough to affect the Commander.”

“Good work,” he said, clapping the tiny alien on the shoulder, forgetting how small he was and making him jerk slightly.

“So, Spock,” he said over chess that night, “how much do you remember?”

Spock winced noticeably. “Enough,” he admitted. “I have apologized to Ensign Chekov for my completely inappropriate comments. I would also like to apologize to you for my lack of professionalism.”

Kirk waved him off. “No harm done,” he said. “Really. It was kind of entertaining, once I got over the shock.” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “In fact, I wonder if I could just get some of the _flowers_. You know, every once in a while. When you want to let your hair down a little.”

Spock glared. “My hair does not 'let down', Jim.”

Kirk laughed, because Spock had totally known what he'd meant. “Don't I know it. Your move,” he said with a wink.

 

THE END


End file.
